The Mansion

Sunday, October 28, 2012

"A mysterious man. They say whenever a locked room murder happens, he just appears out of nowhere and solves it"

"The Locked Room Collector"

As much as I love reading short stories, I have to admit I usually do find it kinda hard to difficult to review short story collection here. At least, I think it's difficult to keep a balance between writing about the collection, as, well, as a collection (one whole), and the individual stories. I usually tend to go for the latter, resulting in tedious summaries for each story (and because it usually results in having to write more, I tend to shave some corners on the actual reviewing of those stories). On the other hand, usually the quality between the short stories in a collection changes quite a bit, and as a reader, I would prefer to know more about the individual stories myself rather than the collection as a whole, so there is always the problem of how to tackle these things. Usually, I just go for what pops up in my mind though for my posts here.

Misshitsu Shuushuuka ("The Locked Room Collector") is a short story collection by Ooyama Seiichirou published earlier this month. I think this is the first time I've ever reviewed a book so close after its release (not counting manga). Ooyama is an old member of the Kyoto University Mystery Club, but I had only read one scenario by him in the PSP game Trick X Logic. Me no Kabe no Misshitsu ("A Locked Room With Walls of Eyes") was one of the best stories in the game though and I also chose it as one of the most memorable stories I read last year, so it was just a matter of time before I would actually start reading more of him. Well, that, and the fact that this book was available to borrow and looked easy to read did bump it up my reading pile.

Anyway, the five stories collected here are all locked room murder stories, set in different periods and places (though often Kyoto) in Japan. The one thing connecting these independent murders is the Locked Room Collector, an almost legendary person (entity?) who mysteriously pops up whenever a locked room murder occurs. Seemingly a man around his thirties, the Locked Room Collector has built up a reputation of being able to solve all locked room murders and the police will thus happily accept his assistance, but nothing more is known about him. In fact, it is very probable that the Locked Room Collector is just some kind of fairy that appears around locked room murders or something like that.

Yanagi no Sono ("Garden of Willows") is set in Kyoto, 1937 and is very reminiscent of Higashigawa Tokuya's Kirigamine's Humiliation and Kirigamine Ryou's Second Humiliation: this story is also about an impossible disappearance at a schoolbuilding in the form of the letter E. A girl student who went back to the schoolbuilding in the night because she had left her copy of The Tragedy of X outside in the garden, happens to be witness of the shooting of a teacher in the music room. Because of the curtains, she couldn't see the murderer, but she quickly calls for the teacher on watch. The room is locked from the inside though and only after the caretaker (who has the key) comes, are they able to open the door, only to find the dead teacher there.

This is at one hand quite an ingenious story, because even though it is relatively short, the deduction chain based on a single piece of evidence is very impressive and it is rare to see such Queenian deductions used in a locked room mystery. The downside is that at times this deduction chain is not that convincing, making assumptions that aren't as indisputable Ooyama/the Locked Room Collector would like you to think. Overall, it's a very good story though that sets a high standard the whole volume manages to keep.

In Shounen to Shoujo no Misshitsu ("A Boy and a Girl's Locked Room") (1953), a house is being watched by the police, because they have information an illegal cigarette deal will be done there. The house faces the streets on three sides, with the back facing its back neighbor house (which in turn is also facing the streets on three sides). During the stakeout, one policeman notices that the inhabitant of the next door house coming back, and a bit later her boyfriend too. After having caught their man, the policeman thinks it strange the couple didn't react at all to the ruckus they made during the arrest and takes a look inside the house next door, only to find the boy and girl stabbed to death. But how did the murderer escape from the house, as the streets were all watched by policemen?

This is a surprisingly complex story for its page count and really shows off Ooyama's knack for constructing awesome impossible situations in a limited amount of pages. The way Ooyama solves these situations feel very Queenian (even without using the elimination method of deduction) and Ooyama is probably very aware of that. Like Queen's dying message stories, Ooyama will often suggest several very plausible solutions, only to show that he has thought about that too and that he has made sure that those solutions are impossible under the circumstances (for people thinking of Queen's Mr Long and Mr Short, this is a different kind of story!). This story does rely on some coincidences, but that doesn't weaken the fundamental puzzle at all.Shisha wa Naze Ochiru ("Why Did The Body Fall?") (1969) starts with a young paintress being harrassed by her old boyfriend, asking her to break off her engagement and come back to him. During their fight, they see a woman falling from the apartment above: the hostess living above seems to have commited suicide. They call for the police, but they find a knife in the victim's back, meaning this was murder. Even stranger is that the victim had been dead for almost three hours before her drop to the ground floor. When the police go up to the victim's room though, the door is locked (and the chain-lock is on too), meaning the murderer got away from a locked room.

A relatively simple story, but by this volume's standards, that still means it's a fairly complex story. Once again Ooyama likes to dangle plausible solutions in front of you before showing he has eliminated those possibilities already, forcing you find new solutions and interpretations constantly. This is also related to Ooyama's excellent placing of hints. The most innocently-looking comments will suddenly turn out to be the weak point in your own deductions, while at the same time being the crucial hints leading to the true solution. It's like you have to switch between offense and defense with your deductions constantly as you read these stories, which makes these stories fun to read not only on a contents/story level, but also on the level of interactivity.

Wake Ari no Misshitsu ("A Locked Room with Problems") (1985) is my favorite story of the collection. It starts with the murderer having commited his crime and preparing everything to create a locked room. After this inverted prologue, we (and the police) are presented with an interesting problem: why was the locked room made in the first place? The murderer in fact did everything to ensure that the police would see that it was a genuine locked room murder: the murderer actually made the call to the police, to ensure that the police would be the first ones to discover the body. And while a common trick is to lock a room from outside, only to return the key after the locked room has been opened (so it seems it was inside the whole time), this is also impossible, because the only key to the room was found inside the victim's stomach!

While this whole collection feels meta in general, Wake Ari no Misshitsu really brings the meta-conciousness up to a different level by having a murderer who actively wants the police to find out the locked room trick he used, going as far as to personally arrange things that other, more conventional tricks would have been impossible. In a way, this is what Ooyama has been doing all the time now with this collection, but having it now used as a story plot is just amazing. I have to admit though that the hints leading to the murderer and the murderer's locked room trick aren't that special, but it is the meta-discussion that arises from the motive behind the locked room murder that makes this story so memorable.

Kayako no Yane ni Yuki Furitsumu ("Snow Packing on Kayako's Roof") (2001) starts with a failed suicide attempt by Kayako in the forest. She is found by a local young doctor, who brings Kayako back to her own house/clinic. The doctor treats Kayako for the day, but the following day the police knock on the door and as the doctor doesn't answer the door, Kayako opens it. It seems someone called the police saying the doctor was murderer in her own house, which turns out to be totally true. Problem: the doctor is murdered, the only other person in the house was Kayako and the only footprints in the snow leading away and from the house, are those of the doctor when she went out for groceries the previous day. Conclusion: Kayako is the murderer.

Well, of course she isn't. I thought that this was the simplest story of the bunch, but it still a very well constructed puzzler, where Ooyama manages to kill off most of your deductions with slyly hidden hints in the text, while at the same time leaving enough hints that lead to the real solution. Here Ooyama also follows a Queenian chain of deduction, starting with one small hint that lead to a wide variety of interpretations and deductions. A story that shows that puzzlers don't have to be overly complex to be fun anyway.

A great short story collection that shows love for the locked room. It manages to present locked room murders as Queenian puzzler plots, which is a feat on its own, but the high standard of every story is just amazing. My only complaint would just be that five stories are way too few to keep the reader satisfied!

"Misty, I will tell you this! Having no scars on your body is nothing to brag about! For a man, a scar is a symbol of courage, a medal of honor! No way you can beat me without even knowing what it is to feel pain!"

"Saint Seiya"

Putting about twenty people in one room to proofread for several days is not good for their health. The so-called "battlefield" that is editing the Mystery Club's annual publication is quite taxing as is, but the battlefield cold that almost everyone catches is just as bad. In a way, it is proof you were there though. Oh, for those who can read Japanese and are interested how Kyoto University Mystery Club's annual publication Souanoshiro/Souajou (both readings possible) is made: Van Madoy has written a short article on that this week (with photo's from the club room and this year's battlefield).

When I first started reading Japanese detective fiction, I couldn't actually read Japanese, meaning I had to be content with the few translated novels that were available. And with what I could actually procure, as some translations were old and out of print already by the time I started looking for them. One translated writer I could never get my hands on was Natsuki Shizuko, of whom several novels were translated in English. I wanted to read one title particularly, the translated version of W no Higeki ("The Tragedy of W"), because of obvious Queen-fandom reasons. I can actually read the original now, or watch one of the many TV and movie adaptations of the book (there was a new drama version broadcast this year too), but when I saw the Germantranslation of the English translation of the book in the bookcase of the Mystery Club, I just couldn't resist it. So I borrowed Mord am Fujiyama (translation of Murder at Mount Fuji).

Every year, the wealthy Wada family gathers at one of their villas on New Year. This is usually a private matter, and even the servants are sent back home allowing the family to have absolute privacy, but this year is different. The 22-year old Chiyo is working on her thesis on English literature, with the assistance of the American Jane Prescott, who studies Japanese literature at the Tokyo Women's University. Because of that, Chiyo has invited Jane to the mansion too, so they can continue working on her thesis there too. During their stay however, an believable accident happens: Chiyo's great-uncle Youhei (the head of the family), is found murdered, with Chiyo admitting to the murder. Because the family wants to protect Chiyo (and to protect their family name), they decide to make it seem like the old man was murdered by an outsider, coming up with an intricate web of lies to deceive the police. But things don't go as planned...

Because of the (original Japanese) title, I had hoped that this novel would be like one of Queen's novels, but it isn't. The family gathering setting reminds more of Christie than Queen, and while there are some Queenian moments near the end of the novel, but the novel feels a bit... light. Even though it didn't had to be. The first part of the novel works out like an inverted novel, and the plan they made to make it seem like an outsider killed Youhei is actually quite ingenious. The police however very quickly finds out what is happening and even though that is an integral part of the plot, the way the police sees through the Wadas plan is a bit too easy compared to the immense efforts the family went through to set the whole scheme up! For the plot to work, the plan had to fail, but the balance of the effort/reward of going through the whole plan for the reader is a bit off: with an inverted mystery, you usually don't want to see the whole thing falling to pieces almost immediately.

The whole book felt a bit too two-hour-drama-ish for my taste. I am not sure when the tropes of that particular Japanese TV special formula came to be (this book was first published in 1982), but the non-urban environment, the outsider (Jane) setting, the 'dramatic' ending with the heroine facing off against the criminal, it's all here. I had 'problems' especially with Jane as a character, because I had no idea why she had to be a foreigner (in a way, a double outsider: not one of the family and a foreigner) for this story to work. In fact, in most screens adaptations, she is changed to a Japanese woman (also because of the supply of available actresses, probably) and I would think that works just as well.

And the title change from The Tragedy of W to Murder at Mount Fuji? Let's blame orientalism and a lacking interest in (and knowledge of) Golden Age detective novels when the translation was published. Seriously, titles like Murder in Japan or Death in the Family say just as much about the contents as Murder at Mount Fuji. And regarding the German title, I hope we all know that Fujiyama is an erronous reading.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

"You can fix something that's broken, but you can't fix something that was missing from the beginning"

"Strangulation Romanticist"

And I still remember that sight like it was yesterday. There I was, sitting behind my computer, ready to write the first proper review in weeks. It was nine o' clock. The book in question besides me, I had already made notes about the things I liked, nothing standing between me and a review. And that sight was in fact not yesterday, but this morning (it's afternoon as I am writing this). I haven't written anything between then and now. I am very good at not being productive.

Which also explains why it took me about three weeks to finish Anthoney Berkeley's Jumping Jenny. Not because of the book itself though, certainly not that. But these things just happen. Anyway, Jumping Jenny. A much praised book by Berkeley and I can certainly understand why. Mystery writer and amateur detective Roger Sheringham is at a party where the guests are all dressed up as famous murderers. Amongst the guests is a Mrs Stratton, who is nothing more than a total nuisance to everyone (but her husband is probably the biggest sufferer). So nobody was really sad when they found her dead body hanging from one of the fake gallows erected for the party. Roger is convinced that the victim's husband is the guilty party, but because he believes the world is definitely better off without her, he tries to fix the evidence so it seems like Mrs. Stratton commited suicide.

The joke however is that this novel is (in principle) an inverted mystery and the reader knows what caused the death of Mrs. Stratton. And it is definitely not what Sheringham is thinking. Jumping Jenny is actually a double inverted mystery that manages to play wonderfully with the format: we first see the events that lead up to Mrs. Stratton in classic inverted style. In a normal mystery, we would see a detective arrive at the scene and have him solve the case. The fun we usually derive from such inverted mysteries, like Columbo and Furuhata Ninzaburou, is usually one of two types: usually you will be cheering for the detective, and enjoyment is derived from seeing the detective slowly, but surely closing in on his target. Sometimes you root for the murderer, because the victim was someone who really had it coming to him/her. For both types, the intellectual battles between murderer and detective are usually the highlight of such stories.

The way I read Jumping Jenny however, didn't fit any of these types. I wasn't rooting for the murderer, nor for the detective. I was hoping the detective would fail. Not because I thought the murderer should have gone free: but Roger Sheringham is portrayed as a character you want to see fail. He is the self-concious Amateur Detective: he comes up with grand theories and notices small things no other people would notice. He is the Thinking Machine of the story. It however also places him in a state of mind other detectives occasionally seem to visit too: he thinks he is always right, and that he has the right to judge. In Jumping Jenny, Sheringham is a) convinced that Mr. Stratton is the murderer and b) convinced that he should try to help him, even if it means perjury and having to fix fake evidence.

So here we have the initial murder, told in an inverted style and then an on-going inverted story where Sheringham is commiting the crime of faking evidence and inputting witnesses with fake memories! And it is told in such a way, that the Detective is the Criminal. In the end, I ended up rooting for the Proper Authorities, which is something you don't often do in novels with amateur detectives.

Considering Berkeley wrote early inverted mystery novel Malice Afterthought (as Francis Iles), the way this novel plays with the inverted mystery is wonderfully meta-concious. In a way, you might consider this an anti-mystery, or at least a critique (and loving parody at the same time) of the flawless amateur detective who can act freely from the proper authorities. It works here great (at the expense of Sheringham), and it makes Jumping Jenny a recommended read.

And somewhat off-topic, but I do think that is kinda ridiculous that the Japanese translated version of this novel is actually a lot cheaper (even though translations are relatively expensive) than the current English version in print.

Actually, it's a bit less than what's on the picture: I have seperated my bookcase in an 'unread' shelf and 'finished' shelf, but the finished shelf is already full. I should sell something or send something back one of these days. So it ain't that bad.

But yes, the reason I haven't posted anything in two weeks is simply because I have not finished one single book in these two weeks. Which is really rare. I have been juggling between two books that should result in interesting reviews, but it might take another week at this rate. Also because the Mystery Club is busy with the annual publication that is to be sold at Kyoto University's November Festival.

(Oh, and I did write my very first mystery-esque story. In Japanese. Of only one page long. Because there is also a part in the publication where every member has to write something very short according to a common theme. It doesn't have to be a mystery, but I tried. As far as I could get within one page and not writing in my native tongue. In fact, it isn't that good a story. If you can call a one page thingy a story.)

And to sum up the last few weeks in fairly random sentences nobody will understand: I have been following a course on manga that has surprisingly become helpful for my thesis on Japanese detective fiction. The karaage from the ramen restaurant Takayasu (of which the interior is way too fancy) are the size of half a chicken (why didn't the cook warn us?). The expensive strawberry icecream and the cheaper one are reverse versions of each other. Having a girl explain enthusiastically about TokiMemo is funny. Lost Dutch tourists still think I'm not a native Dutch speaker when I explain the way back to them in perfectly fine Dutch. Pineapple cakes from Taiwan arrive at the best moment possible. And I have been walking up and down the post office way too often the last few days.

I am pretty sure that I have mentioned before that I have a totally rational fear of clowns. Because we all know they are inherently evil. Not sure though whether I ever mentioned that I also have a rational fear of puppets/dolls/evil incarnate/you choose the word. There is probably some psychological explanation for it, seeing as both beings are distorted images of the human body and such, but that still doesn't change the fact I don't like dolls and clowns.

Which might have been the subconcious reason I had been pushing Ayatsuji Yukito's Ningyoukan no Satsujin ("The Puppet House Murders") back in my reading pile for so long. I bought almost half a year ago and I actually got it signed by Ayatsuji himself then (I happened to have it with me then, meaning I had meant to read it in May already), but somehow it got pushed back. A lot. And often. The titular Puppet House is a nickname one of its room tenants has for a large mansion in a residential area of Kyoto. Hiryuu Souichi has recently moved into the mansion as its new owner and landlord, having inherited from his recently deceased father. The nickname derives from the fact that several faceless mannequin dolls are placed around the mansion, which are not to be moved following Souichi's father's will. But mysterious events like threatening letters, strange sounds at night and rumors about the mansion worry Souichi and when it all culminates into the death of his mother, he seeks out the help of his old friend Shimada Kiyoshi.

Ningyoukan no Satsujin is the fourth novel in Ayatsuji's Yakata series and this novel marks a turning point for the series. The previous novels had all featured very tense closed circle situations surrounding the sinister buildings designed by architect Nakamura Seiji. This time however, the setting is actually an open one, with the story taking place over the course of several months. Compare the students on a lonely island, a mansion in the depths of a forest and a locked underground maze to... a mansion in a residential area. With the protagonist going out for coffee occasionally. Right from the start the reader is aware that this is a very different novel from the previous novels. Which can be a good thing of course. Ayatsuji obviously started to see the limits of his own series and thus changed things a bit (in fact, Ningyoukan was supposed to be the last book in the series initially, which might also explain the big changes, wanting to make it more distinct).

But, did he succeed? Yes and no. Sure, he got rid of the closed circle situation trope, the dense story-telling of many events in a very short period of time. The focus on the buildings is therefore also weakened, this time presenting us with lively descriptions of Kyoto. This obtained freedom allows Ayatsuji to slowly, but surely build up the suspense surrounding Souichi and I would say that it works. There is also little to no meta-discussion about the genre, which makes it more accessible to 'normal' readers, as compared to the more blatantly mystery-fan oriented Jukkakukan no Satsujin and Meirokan no Satusjin.

And while there is no meta-discussion on the genre, Ayatsuji actually managed to sneak in a meta-discussion about the Yakata series and himself as a writer in general. Through the words of Shimada Kiyoshi, it becomes clear where Ayatsuji felt the series was heading to if he didn't change the formula and he makes it a wonderful point of the story, without rubbing it into the reader's face. One should read the series in order though to really appreciate this point.

On the other hand though, Ayatsuji still uses the same type of tricks he had used in the previous novels. The exterior might be different (with the closed circle trope gone), but it is still built around something that is nothing more than another (no pun intended) variation of the same main trick. It is also fairly weakly disguised here, making it by far the easiest-to-solve mystery by Ayatsuji I have read until now. As a writer, I think Ayatsuji pays more attention to the story itself, rather than the puzzle plot, which would explain why the formula changes were mostly centered on the storytelling tropes, rather than on the trick tropes, but I find it a bit disappointing. I had personally no problems with the closed circle settings, so I had rather seen the reverse: changes focused on the trick tropes, rather than on the storytelling tropes.

Though I have to admit, I did like the descriptions of Kyoto in this novel. The K- University mentioned in the novel is obviously Kyoto University (where Ayatsuji studied, and where I am studying now) and the area where Hiryou lives, north of the campus, around Kita-Shirakawa street, is actually where I live at the moment (my room is actually facing the street), so it was quite recognizable. Which usually means sneaky bonus points for me. Marutamachi Revoir is also set in Kyoto (though mostly in a courtroom), but it was set in another part of town, so it didn't really feel close.

This is definitely a change from the formula up until now. I myself am not too big a fan of this change actually, but I can see why the changes were made and why readers would like it. But with these fundamental changes done, I really have no idea how the consequent books in the Yakata series are going to be (and then I realized that I am not even halfway through the series...).

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

After posting the AKB48Satsujin Jiken review, I remembered I hadn't even reviewed the newest Conan yet (which I had already read almost two weeks earlier)! But three manga reviews in a row is a bit too skewed for my taste, so back to books for the moment!

And as I hardly read any books the last few weeks, the only option is to go to Marutamachi Revoir, which I finished just yesterday. To the outside world, Shirosaka Jion, the head of a big hospital, died of natural causes. But to the persons close to him, there was always the possibility that his fifteen year old grandson Rongo killed the man. He had the motive: Jion wanted Rongo to study medicine to take over the firm against his will. He had the opportunity: he was Jion's mansion at the time of the murder. And he had the means: Rongo's cellphone was found in Jion's room, which could have been used to mess up Jion's pacemaker, resulting in his death. Rongo's uncle quickly secured the evidence pointing at Rongo, but promised not to do anything with them as long as Rongo would not take up medicine, which would leave the hospital to himself. And as Rongo didn't want to study medicine anyway, all was well.

Until three years later. Rongo suddenly decides to study medicine anyway, breaking the promise. With all bets off, Rongo is now to be trialed at the Gathering of the Twin Dragons, a private trial that has been a secret tradition in Kyoto for ages. Acting as the Yellow Dragon (prosecution) is the infamous Tatsuki family, whereas Mikaga Mitsuru (nicknamed the Red Karasuma), assisted by Midou Tatsuya (the Universal Collector), is to act as the Blue Dragon (defense). There is only one way to prove Rongo's innocence: three years ago, on that fatal day, a mysterious woman calling herself Rouge had been in Jion's mansion, who definitely showed signs of wanting to kill Jion. The only problem, she destroyed all evidence of her existence. Will the Blue Dragon be able to pull off a miracle and what will the outcome of the Gathering of the Twin Dragons be?

As a relatively young 'graduate' from the Kyoto University Mystery Club, Van Madoy (or Madoi Ban, the former being his prefered romanization, it seems), is a writer who still has strong ties with the club, as there are still active members who used to be in the club at the same time as him. Which is how I first heard about him. Marutamachi Revoir is his debut novel and was originally published under the Kodansha Box label, mostly featuring adolescent fiction with a high pop-culture tone to them (NisiOisiN also has a series there). I admit that Marutamachi Revoir fits there, as it is also a sad story of Rongo's first love and the dialogues here at times remind of the amazing dialogues and wordplays found in NisiOisiN's Zaregoto series, but this novel could also have easily been published as a 'normal' mystery novel. I think a lot of people might have missed this book initially because of the publishing line, but that would be a shame, because Marutamachi Revoir is really worth a read (and released as a normal, cheaper paperback now, though this release doesn't has the awesome original cover art!).

The first impression I had after finishing the book was that fans of the Ace Attorney / Gyakuten Saiban series would definitely like this novel. The bulk of the story is made up by the Gathering of the Twin Dragons and the logical battle between the Blue and Yellow Dragons, trying to shoot down the other side's evidence and deductions is really exciting and reminiscent of the best scenes in the Ace Attorney games. The characters in Marutamachi Revoir are also slightly exaggerated, resulting in a somewhat manga-esque presentation. Which isn't bad at all. I for one love the notion of the Yellow Dragons having 'special attacks', like Tatsuki Rakka's Revival of the Fallen Blossoms (coming up with evidence that can't possibly exist), or Yamato's Dark Sword Killing (overwhelming the opponent with absolute evidence). It might be a bit flashy, but the whole atmosphere in the novel is just slightly unreal, a bit movie-like, which actually gives it a very unique flavour.

But one must not forget the fact that the Gathering of the Twin Dragons is a private trial. In the end, the law has nothing to do with this trial, and while there are still rules to the game, a lot more is allowed here than in an actual trial, making things a lot more difficult to predict, which in turn results in more excitement.

But, you would say, is the thrill in a courtroom drama not derived from having a person judged by law? The danger of being sent to prison, or worse? A mock trial negates the inherent importance of a trial, the sense of wanting to save someone's life, right? So how is Marutamachi Revoir going to keep up enough of a tempo for the reader to want to read until the end?

In fact, to be honest, while I really liked the Gathering of the Twin Dragons, at times you feel like the story is not moving towards the truth behind the case at all. With both Dragons shooting down the other side's evidence, it is like the story only moves sidewards or even backwards at time. There isn't an actual detective figure in the story either, with Rongo, Mitsuru and Tatsuya all acting as a kind of detective at one point in the story or another, leaving the reader without a character to really focus on. And while there are some great plot twists during the story, the main puzzle (Rouge) is actually quite easy to guess. Sure, Van Madoy has left some (great) hints for the reader to pick up for almost all of the plot twists actually, but the 'final truth' feels a bit light, a bit unimportant.

Which could be a really bad thing, but it isn't here. I actually had trouble getting this into words, but then I read Maya Yutaka's commentary to Marutamachi Revoir and I could only nod. So to quote Maya:

"In short, this author is purposely suggesting that the fun
in orthodox mysteries does not lie in deductions that equal the truth,
but in the deductions themselves, whether they are just hypothethical or the
truth. That is why he weakened the importance of the truth itself. In
orthodox mysteries, it isn't about truth that befits 'detection', but coming
up with an interesting deduction. Detection is important, a detective is not crucial element."

(Maya Yutaka, 2012, Commentary to Marutamachi Revoir (paperback))

The journey to the truth, the Gathering of the Twin Dragons, is fantastic and that is what keeps you reading. The second part of the novel, where Tatsuya is investigating the case to prepare for the Gathering, is in hindsight full of hints, but really boring in comparison to the rest, because this is also the part where the reader isn't really presented with all kinds of deductions. Even in the first part, where Rongo tells about his meeting with Rouge, is full of excitement with Rongo and Rouge trying to deduce all kinds of information about each other.

In short, I really liked Marutamachi Revoir. I am hesitating now whether to buy the sequel right away, or wait some years for the paperback version. I would also want to recommend this novel to fans of the Ace Attorney series, but seeing as this novel is only out in Japanese at the moment and this is actually a difficult book to translate...